Back to Chronicles
To Mock the Purists...
All material is copyright ©2005 - 2016 Infinitive Ink Limited

The Sacred Antinous
The Oracle of Apollo
To Mock the Purists in their Rabidity



I’m gonna go lofty now – so prepare:

Mine honoured forefathers – dependable
Tradesmen of a Word once scribed, presently typed,
Anon to a listening chip dictated,
And, soon after that, in a quantum age,
Roundly by qubits breezily thought –
Must surely in their graphene heaven be cheer’d,
For now and finally may writers
Put letters to perfectly marshaled form
And deploy them instantly to the world
At the click of increasingly steampunk’d mice.

Such Words be but abstractions of language,
Leapt from a single mind into the world
And faithful, generally, of reception –
If not by ephemeral eyes or ears
Than at least by those of living beings –
Instantly, or from archives extracted
By avid and future-dwelling seekers.

And O! what an awesome archive we steward!
What a vast and astonishing treasure –
Records of a genome’s collective thought
That may, if luck smiles, speak to a new Age.
True, there is in it some image and art,
Notations of music, mime, and movement.
Yet held by far in greatest gushing number
Is that lavish, little invention called Book.

Tho’ a product of the nascent ‘Net,
I, Sir Richard, still nonetheless revere
These venerable vehicles of wisdom
Heretofore printed, bound, and blest as Books –
For indeed they have for a long epoch
Played shepherd to a flock of bleating men,
And walked with us o’er ascending terrains
Of epistemological history.

Natch, and as is to be well expected,
The object called Book shall soon be blasted
From the past into cybernetic tales
Of an ancient and primitive species.
(In other words, Us – the Analog People.)
Until then, let us take comfort and joy
In the folio’s physical, tactile form,
Finding in it the inspiration for
Bodily pleasures and page-turning pomp!

Take, for instance, Plato’s Symposium:
This mighty incantation of Eros –
A tale to inspire the drunken revels
Of pre-Deus Antinous, his friends,
And the orgy of their athletes’ Corinth –
Happens, by delightful coincidence,
To be also one of Sir Leo’s faves.

How, then, could I resist calling him back,
That he might be seen through a doting cam
To consider and caress its genius?

You’ll recall him, of course, from West Queer West:
How he, holding piece, made peace with his art,
And we, post-cumming, to the sweet psalms came,
Bestowing on me my good direction.

Here’s to fellows turned on by big brains:
Those that know a mind more voluminous
Makes blithely the body erogenous!
And here’s again to fellows of fearless,
Independent thought: by warped and glaring,
Soul-ensnaring errors galvanized
To forge new and wholesome philosophies!

Hadrian, I trow, was one such noble:
A man who saw men’s Original Sin
As but the stubborn refusal to think.
By this, he inspires our lucidity…
To Mock the Purists in their Rabidity.

The Sacred Antinous
He is knowledgeable
For that He knows both power and its flight;
He is knowledgeable
For that He knows His joy and pain be oftimes one;
He is knowledgeable
For that He knows (as like Socrates) that He knows little;
He is knowledgeable
For that He knows what it is to laugh.
And so,
For that He is honest in his inconsistencies,
He is most consistent;
For that He is giving of himself through flesh,
He receives;
For that He is on occasion unclean, and will admit to it,
He is spotless;
For that He is mortal and profane,
He is sacred.


Ah, that magnificent, Leonine smile:
The grin of a sinless guy well sated!
I trust you’ve enjoyed and been buoyed by it –
This intermittently episodic,
Situationally rhapsodic
Dot-comedia del artsy-fartsy
Fantastic’ly erotic cybervision;
Delightful and frightfully insightful
Stories by a bored-as-hell screenwriter’s
Housewife written, bitten and chewed in a
Blizzard of bold, Elizabethan verse!
(Which, incidentally, succinctly and
Distinctly maps the strange topographies trod
By poet pornographer, Richard Sir Wadd.)

To the Chronicles!